


Trouble is Swell

by Kyla_Wren



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Badass Amanda, Bar fights, DrummerWolf, F/M, Local Shows, Witchakookoo action, drunk makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 17:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyla_Wren/pseuds/Kyla_Wren
Summary: Is it still a date if you bring 3 friends?The Rowdies go to a Louisiana bar and things get scrappy.Set Post-Season 2, Amanda and Martin in loveee.





	Trouble is Swell

Amanda rolled the Apprentice wand back and forth between her palms. She’d seen this thing do serious damage - Todd had seen it kill people - but she couldn’t make it do anything. In her hands it was as potent as an unloaded gun. Just a stick with a tacky jewel on the end.

Winding up her arm, she threw what had to be the hundredth wild swing at the empty bayou. She was willing to do anything, transform a dragonfly, burn a hole in the ground, whatever.

“How’s it goin’ over there, Drummer?” Martin roared. He was sitting in the driver seat of the van with the door open, playing music and reading a paperback. She waved and he tapped the horn playfully.

Amanda sighed and trudged over to him, dangling the wand from her limp hand like an empty soda can.

“Not great. It’s not working. I can tell I’m just not using it right… I wish Wakti was here. She could tell me what I’m missing.”

Martin reached over to squeeze her shoulder, massaging the place that was starting to ache. His expression revealed nothing. Mr. Composure, always, when he wasn’t wrecking shit. She touched the tattoo on his neck.

“The witch said you were ready,” his voice was a low rumble. “She trusted you. You should trust yourself.”

“Thanks,” she said with sincerity. The support of her weird little family was all that was keeping her going right now. They had traveled across the country to align with her visions of silverbell trees and duckweed covered water, red lights and danger and this goddamn piece of junk wand. 

Unlike her, the Rowdies were more than satisfied. They loved travelling, loved being around her, loved goofing off and being directionless. It was a comfort to know that even if she never fulfilled her destiny and gained more control over her powers, they’d be just as happy with her.

Still, if she failed, it could be bad news for the whole universe…

“Okay there? You feel a little...” Martin moved his hands through the air around her head. “... Nervous.”

“Gonna have a snack attack, Boss?” Vogel popped up behind the driver’s seat, clutching a hand of cards. The boys were playing poker in the back. To his credit, Vogel sounded more concerned than excited.

“Uh... “ Amanda scrunched up her face, concentrating. “No. I don’t think so. Just getting tired.”

“Take a break.” Martin stood up without warning and picked her up, swinging her over his shoulder. She shrieked with laughter as he carried her around to the open back of the van. “Sun’s goin’ down anyhow.”

He put her down and she unlaced her boots, which had picked up too much Louisiana mud to wear inside, before rolling over to join the boys. Their game was intense - the pot was a pile of rings, enamel pins, guitar picks, and a bag of gummi bears.

Martin joined them, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the edge of his shirt. Amanda’s phone vibrated.

“Todd’s calling me.” She paused for a second and then swiped to answer. It amazed her that her phone still worked. She hadn’t paid a bill in months. “Hello?”

“Amanda! Hi!” her brother’s voice had the immediate effect of making her feel like she was thirteen again. Happy, exasperated, and also like she might cry. The Rowdies paused in their game.

“Hey bro,” She let Gripps take her foot and put it on his lap, starting to paint her toenails a deep blue.

There was some background chatter.

“Wait, Dirk wants to talk too - I’ll put you on speakerphone.”

“‘Kay,” she did the same, tilting the phone flat in her palm.

“Hi Amanda!!” the cheerful mania of Dirk’s British accent filled the van. Martin snorted. He missed that guy’s delicious-tasting fear. “We’re in New Orleans. There is a _lot_ of supernatural activity afoot in this city.”

“Wait, you’re in Louisiana?” Drummer wrinkled her nose. “ _We’re_ in Louisiana. Right now.”

There was a pause. Everyone on both ends of the line, in varying tones, said “Universe.”

“I thought something like this might happen,” Dirk said, and was promptly interrupted by Todd.

“Listen, Amanda, whatever you do, do _not_ come to New Orleans. This case is spiraling out of control -”

“This case is _totally_ under control.”

“-and there are these freaky Nazi biker guys running around everywhere. It is not safe. It has never been less safe.”

“Is Farah with you?”

“She went out to buy disguises for us,” Dirk sounded pleased with the idea.

“Well, as long as you’re with Farah, you’re safe.”

“I wasn’t talking about us, Amanda. I was talking about you!”

Drummer looked around at the Rowdies, incredulous. They shrugged back at her.

“Todd,” she said slowly. “Which one of us is more likely to be in danger? Me, with four big strong vampire guys and _literal magic powers_ , or you, with… Dirk.”

“Point taken. Please don’t come to New Orleans.”

“Okay, Todd. Talk to you later.”

She hung up and flopped back to rest between Cross and Vogel against the wall of the van.

“What’s with that guy?” Vogel was vibrating with energy, like a chihuahua that would probably bite. “He’s always so _nervous_.”

She laughed. “I think it’s you that makes him nervous.”

Gripps screwed the cap back on his nail polish, pleased with his work. He drew his hand of cards out of his shirt pocket. “Royal Flush!”

The others groaned. She knew for a fact that they all cheated, so no one could rightfully complain. “We’re going out tonight, right?”

“Hell yeah.” Cross smiled and fist-bumped her.

“Ain’t no way we’d miss out on that. This state is just Hell with bars,” Martin said darkly.

“You’d know better than I would, Southern Boy,” Amanda kicked him lightly with her foot. “Good. I want a drink. Or twenty. It’s been a frustrating day.”

They stopped at a Breaux Mart so Amanda could change in the bathroom. The Rowdies stayed in the parking lot with the van doors open, enjoying the sunset.

“That your girl?” some idiot had asked, jerking a thumb in her direction as she walked into the store. Hoping for a negative, surely.

“Fuck off,” Martin spat around his cigarette. They did. Some people were too dumb to even feel fear until it was right in their face.

 _His girl_. It was hard to wrap his head around the idea.

Of course, she had been _theirs_ , and they had been _hers_ , ever since the day she climbed in the Oh No Van and decided to stay. This was different.

He’s spent years sharing everything with the Rowdy 3, enough that his identity had started to blur at the edges. Being with Drummer now made those edges re-sharpen. He was an individual again - the man she loved. It redoubled his resolve to protect all of them, to be pack leader, to stay in control of himself and his fate.

Inside, Amanda twirled in front of the mirror.

She had a new short black skirt from a thrift store in Texas, a black velvet choker necklace and her now-trusty old boots and jacket. She combed out the long dark waves of her hair and added a deep berry lip color to her makeup. She thought the resulting look was very striking, like a Romantic poet or maybe the dream a Romantic poet would have about his muse.

The Rowdy 3 reacted with gusto.

“Wow, sexy!” Cross clapped his hands.

Gripps put his hand to his heart. “A True Vision.”

“You look cool, Boss!”

Martin was sitting in the open door of the van, leaning forward on his knees. When she walked over he took his cigarette out and let the smoke seep from his mouth. It was one of those times when the fading light glinted off Martin's glasses and hid what his eyes could tell her. She took his hand and slunk between his legs, twisting back and forth to show off her outfit.

He made a feral noise in his throat and pulled her closer.

“Well, ain't you pretty,” he breathed into her ear. She laughed.

“Good. I thought maybe you didn't like it,” she teased.

“I don't like that we have to go out now. Let's just skip on to the end of the night.”

“Can't disappoint the boys.”

“Stop whispering!!” Vogel demanded, probably worried his night out was in jeopardy. 

They rolled into the back roads, following the scent of human exhilaration. It worked better than any map. Shadows fell and the headlights picked up hundreds of glowing eyes passing by in the swamp. Down here the October night was as warm as midsummer.

The bar they found was bigger than most of the ones they’d been to on the road. It was two stories tall, lit up like a christmas tree and with music bleeding out of every open window. They parked the van near the bayou, in the shadow of hulking trees and the hiss and chatter of insects and frogs, and walked up to the dirt parking lot. As was customary by this point, they passed around a bottle of whiskey before reaching the doors. It was fiscally prudent, and had them all snickering and pushing each other before piling inside. 

It was truly the first place they had been to on this trip where they could blend in. The Rowdies were unsettling to normal people, but where a small-town bar might go dead quiet upon their entrance, this place barely made room for them to get in. A few close-by people whistled at Amanda, earning growls and snaps and making them turn around in a hurry, but aside from that…the ease with which they managed to snag a corner booth was the only nod to their otherworldly air.

The music on the speakers cut out and the band on stage started up. They somehow raised the overall volume in the bar even further, drowning out even the shouted conversations.

Amanda felt the music lift her up and carry her away. She danced with Martin, catching his hands and pogo-ing up and down like a teenager at a punk show. She spun herself around, making him laugh, and drew him close again. The sweet burn of her cocktail raced down her throat and she splashed a little on the floor when Vogel ran over and caught her around the shoulders. He was winning at pool and wanted her to know. Cross and Gripps had found some pretty local girls and were spinning them around the dancefloor.

“Your girlfriend is so beautiful,” a tipsy girl yelled at them, holding up her hand as if to whisper the secret.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Martin nodded at her with perfect seriousness and took a shot of whiskey from Gripps’ full hands. Amanda took one too, and they all clicked glasses together before knocking their heads back. He could tell she was having fun. There was a wild glitter in her eyes and her cheeks were flushed. Martin felt like he could spend his entire life making sure she felt this way. Especially when she was dancing with him like this.

The singer on stage wailed and the drummer pounded on his kit. Amanda replicated his movements with eerie precision, tapping out the beat on Martin’s shoulders. A couple of happy hours passed in a blur of heat and movement.

Sooner than she expected, it was past midnight. The band packed up and left. The place was still crowded to the walls, maybe even more so than before. Friendly faces left, and tougher mugs took their place along the bar.

Amanda was _drunk_. Like, full-on drunk. She could feel beer and rum and vodka dancing through her veins, down her arms and legs and tingling in her hands and feet. She felt warm and tensionless, like a puppet with cut strings. Everything was funny. The faces of the Rowdies bobbed and weaved around her, wreathed in smiles. They were drunk too, fighting-drunk, amped-up and cheerfully dangerous. Only Martin kept a straight face, and Martin was…

“ _Sooo hot_ ,” she said, out loud, for the second or third time, dragging her fingers through his two-tone beard. “How are you like this? With those… cheekbones… fuck, man.”

“Having fun there, Drummer?” he drawled, before being attacked with energetic and increasingly unsuitable-for-public-spaces, open-mouth kisses. Drummer was crawling into his lap and he was having a hard time sitting still.

“Look, we match,” she paused to point out with delight, lifting his hand in hers. They both wore chipped black polish at the moment, courtesy of Gripps. She tickled his wrist tattoos and tugged on his bracelets.

“You’re a real handful tonight,” Martin said, sounding like he didn’t mind at all. He readjusted her on his lap. It felt like he had four hurricanes to keep track of instead of the usual three.

“Boss and Martin, sitting in a tree! K-I-S...Z...N and G!” Vogel overcame the struggle and ended on a note of triumph.

“I Don’t Think That’s Right!” Gripps ventured.

Cross’ leg had been twitching at high speed for the past twenty minutes while he slung back drinks. He growled. “Waiting, waiting! When is it gonna happen?!”

“When is what gonna happen?” Amanda dragged herself away from Martin’s neck. 

“The _thing_! Any thing! The reason we’re here.”

“Oh, I thought we were here for fun,” Amanda said, twisting to grab her whiskey. Martin reached around her and switched a glass of water into her hand. She didn’t object.

“We are, Boss! Just following our noses!”

A low roar of motorcycles grew louder and louder until they cut out in the parking lot.There was a noticeable change in the atmosphere. Amanda craned her neck to see the door. A number of the more ordinary-looking patrons hurried out.

She pulled herself out of the fog to focus on the people stomping in.

“Didn’t Todd say something about… freaky…” she slurred, looking at their faces, “...Nazi…” she clocked their ugly swastika armbands, “...bikers?”

The Rowdy leader gently lifted her and put her in the corner of the booth. He rolled his neck, breathing in deep.

“Smells like trouble.”

“What kind?”

Martin grinned like a wolf. “The fun kind.”

He swung his legs around and stood up with a snap, the same moment that Vogel jumped to stand on the booth seat and Gripps smashed his glass on the ground. Cross pushed over their entire table with a crash and a yell.

The biker gang had no time to react, still processing the sight as the Rowdy 3 spun out into their midst with violent grace. Martin broke a chair across a biker’s back and took up the splintered leg as a club. An all-out brawl engulfed the dancefloor. Glass shattered, people howled.

One of the first things Amanda had learned about the Rowdy 3 was that the universe pushed them headfirst into bad people like a kind of cosmic lawnmower. The difference between them and Bart was that their skills were varied. They specialized in assault, battery, and creative property destruction rather than murder. After all, when you killed somebody, they weren’t gonna remember you. And where’s the fun in that?

Her Rowdy boys had enthusiasm to spare, but the numbers were against them. Martin was sitting on a guy's chest and throwing blows to his jaw. Vogel was setting about left and right with a pool cue, looking like a West Side Story scene cut for excessive violence. Gripps picked somebody up by their collar and threw them through the open window. Cross had another biker in a headlock. Even with the way all four of them were sucking energy out of their opponents left and right, it was clearly time for somebody to step in. Otherwise they’d be here all night.

“Ugh, I was just trying to get laid, here.” Amanda stood, drink in hand, and drew the Apprentice Wand from her jacket. “Hey assholes. Come get some.”

She blinked away a headrush. The first biker to make a move in her direction fell under a stunning shot of lightning that leapt out of her wand. Her hand had moved almost of its own accord. Of course. It felt so natural now. No worries. No barriers between her power and the outside world.

She never had to learn how to use the wand like the Mage or Suzie Boreton did. It was just a tool. In her hands it worked to focus her own kind of magic. 

She took down three more bikers with an arc of shocking light. She felt complete, the overwhelming sense of rightness coursing through her along with all the whiskey as she fulfilled her own visions, the memories rushing back and reconnecting in a way that made sense.

“ _Fuck yeah, Drummer girl!_ ” Martin whooped from inside the fray. Amanda grinned in his direction. 

At this point the tide had officially turned. Four unnaturally tough guys were one thing. Indoor electrical storms were another. The biker gang - the ones who could still walk- fled without a scrap of dignity. The sound of their motorcycles revving filled the parking lot and they peeled away one by one.

Martin sat up from the floor and brushed broken glass off his chest. Cross pulled him to his feet, managing to knock over the last standing table. Everyone checked each other out, dusting off and straightening up. Together they staggered out into the dark.

Amanda put her wand away. 

“Everybody have a good time?”

Cross’ mouth was bleeding. He gave her a very red smile and two thumbs up.

“Boss I think I broke my hand,” Vogel whined, cradling it.

“I’m Fine!” Gripps supplied.

Martin had a black eye and a cut across his eyebrow. Both were fading already. He threaded his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Even your injuries look good,” she said. “Wasn’t that amazing? God, I feel sick.”

He kissed her neck. “Sure was, Darlin’. Let’s get you somewhere you can lie down.”

Soon they were parked in front of their motel room, waiting for Amanda to stop puking in the bushes so they could go inside.

“Yo, Boss is a fuckin’ badass!” Vogel shook his head, far from over it.

Cross nodded. “She’s a crazy wizard, man.”

“Witchakookoo,” Drummer corrected, hunched over. She laughed and choked a little, coughing.

Martin leaned over to rub her back. _His girl._

**Author's Note:**

> -I like Martin being totally enamored with Amanda and everything she does. EVERYTHING.
> 
> -The Rowdy 3 going to see live music at a bar is something that just feels so right. I think several people have written cool fics on the subject - I love lasvegas_lights and everythingremainsconnected’s takes on it especially.
> 
> -Gripps always Talks Like This in my world.
> 
> -Amanda gets drunk in a way hopefully many of us can relate to… amorous and confrontational?
> 
> -The song Martin and Amanda dance to is “Judy French” by White Reaper. Performed live with bad room acoustics here, of course, but you should hear the studio version for the right vibe.


End file.
